ave never had that pleasure," replied Reilly, "but I have heard
enough of her wonderful goodness and beauty."

"Well, sir, I tell you to your teeth that I deny your words--you have
stated a falsehood, sir--a lie, sir."

"What do you mean, sir?" replied Reilly, somewhat indignantly. "I am not
in the habit of stating a falsehood, nor of submitting tamely to such an
imputation."

"Ha, ha, ha, I say it's a lie still, my friend. What did you say? Why,
that you had heard enough of her goodness and beauty. Now, sir, by the
banks of the Boyne, I say you didn't hear half enough of either one or
other. Sir, you should know her, for although you are a Papist you are
a brave man, and a gentleman. Still, sir, a Papist is not--curse it,
this isn't handsome of me, Willy. I beg your pardon. Confound all
religions if it goes to that. Still at the same time I'm bound to say
as a loyal man that Protestantism is my forte, Mr. Reilly--there's where
I'm strong, a touch of Hercules about me there, Mr. Reilly--Willy,
I mean. Well, you are a thorough good fellow, Papist and all, though
you--ahem!--never mind though, you shall see my daughter, and you shall
hear my daughter; for, by the great Boyne, she must salute the man that
saved her father's life, and prevented her from being an orphan. And yet
see, Willy, I love that girl to such a degree that if heaven was open
for me this moment, and that Saint Peter--hem!--I mean the Apostle
Peter, slid to me, 'Come, Folliard, walk in, sir,' by the great
Deliverer that saved us from Pope and Popery, brass money, and--ahem! I
beg your pardon--well, I say if he was to say so, I wouldn't leave her.
There's affection for you; but she deserves it. No, if ever a girl was
capable of keeping an old father from heaven she is."

"I understand your meaning, sir," replied Reilly with a smile, "and
I believe she is loved by every one who has the pleasure of knowing
her--by rich and poor."

"Troth, Mr. Reilly," observed Andy, "it's a sin for any one to let
their affections, even for one of their own childer, go between them and
heaven. As for the masther, he makes a god of her. To be sure if ever
there was an angel in this world she is one."

"Get out, you old whelp," exclaimed his master; "what do you know about
it?--you who never had wife or child? isn't she my only child?--the
apple of my eye? the love of my heart?"

"If you loved her so well you wouldn't make her unhappy then."

"What do you mean, you de